What's in a name?

What Makes America Special?

Submitted to Climate Magazine - July 2020 Issue

What’s in a name?

I love that your name doesn’t define you in America but can refine you. I was born Barbara Noriko Wood. My parents lived in Japan for two years in the late 1950s and loved Japan so much that they named all of their children with Japanese names when they returned. My parents chose to call me Noriko from the day I was born. In first grade, no one could pronounce my name. It made me uncomfortable, so I started turning in my assignments with the name Barbara on them. My teacher called the class into a circle on the rug and asked, “who is Barbara?” I sheepishly raised my hand and explained why I was using it. She told me to be proud of my name and suggested the nickname Nori. I liked it and have been Nori ever since. When I married, I decided to take my husband’s Lebanese last name, Jabba. I decided it was time to move up the alphabet. When I told my uncle I was getting married, he said, “Please tell me you are not going to take his last name.” When I responded, yes, he burst out laughing, repeating the name and shaking his head, saying, “only in America.” “Go ahead and laugh,” I said, but that is what makes America special. We can have a name that is far removed from us and yet so connected to us. It took me ten years to fully embrace my new name. When I started my consulting firm, I decided to use Jabba in the name. I had put up a lot for that last name, and I was going to use it proudly. Mostly, though, I loved that it set me apart. My name has both defined and refined me, and it is a conversation starter. I usually say, “Nori, as in sushi, and Jabba, like Jabba the hut” on the phone or people invariably think my name is Lori Java. They usually laugh. Nori, by the way, literally translates to “seaweed,” and Noriko means “child of the sea.” My name makes me feel American and, to me, represents the diversity that connects us all.